Refurbished Revelations
by yaba
Summary: Lisbon decides to teach Jane a lesson, but ends up learning something herself in the process. Secret Santa Present for Frogster! Post: Scarlet Letter.
1. Part I

**Refurbished Revelations**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Rating: T

Spoiler: The Scarlett Letter

Prompt: Lisbon decides to have Jane's couch reupholstered/cleaned/moved…(without telling him.)

A/N: This is dedicated to Frogster, not only because it's her idea (and Secret Santa present) but also because she constantly gives me positive feedback. Thank you, Shelli for being so sweet!

***

Part I

***

She feels the childishness of her actions seep in with every second that ticks by. She can just imagine the disapproving looks she would get from Bosco in particular; hands crossed over his chest as he frowns at her, wondering how she's stooped down to Jane's level, fighting him with trickery instead of good, hard reprimands.

On the other hand, perhaps Bosco wouldn't really mind what she's doing, considering his evident dislike for the man in question. She blinks as two men, one slightly beefy, the other slightly thin, approach her in matching blue uniforms.

They point to the couch and she nods. She's given the owner of the company all the instructions, so the two men do what they came to do without further questions. Lisbon is actually relieved when they finally leave; surprised she managed to pull this off without any interference.

She congratulates herself on strategically dispersing the members of her unit on various tasks in connection with their recent case and retrieves back into her office with a cup of coffee she knows she'll need it when Cho and Jane return from visiting the aunt of the deceased.

***

He senses that something is wrong almost as soon as he and Cho exit the elevator. Something is amiss but Jane can't quite put his finger on it until they arrive in the bullpen and he stops at the entrance.

Cho, who is reviewing the notes from their visit, walks over to his desk and drops his jacket on the chair without paying attention to Jane, but when he looks up, he finds the blond consultant standing in the doorway, appearing confused. Cho follows the direction Jane is looking in to find that a prominent piece of furniture is absent from the room.

"Do you know anything about this?" Jane asks with his eyebrows furrowed unnaturally.

"No," Cho shakes his head, pulling out his chair and sitting down, his stoic expression never changing.

Jane continues to stare at the empty spot where his couch used to be. He's somewhat miffed by how no one seems to be concerned that his most trusted companion has gone missing. Van Pelt is studiously typing away on her laptop, oblivious to everything around her, while Rigsby is in the break room no doubt searching for his secret stash of rice krispy treats in the cupboard.

He wants to ask one of them if they know anything about the whereabouts of his couch but figures they know just as much as Cho. He looks over at the spot where the brown leather recliner used to be and envisions a chalk white outline like in the cheesy '80s crime dramas, his couch being the victim of an atrocious kidnapping. Since no one else seems to care, it's up to him to catch the culprit.

However, as any good detective, he needs the perfect sidekick so unconsciously his feet carry him to the office of the one person who usually comes to his rescue when he's in trouble.

***

Jane never thinks about courteous acts like knocking, so he bursts into Lisbon's office as usual without permission. His sing song voice carries into the room but she doesn't even look up, concentrating on the report in front of her, a small smile stretching her lips as she asks,

"What is it, Jane?"

He closes the door behind him and observes her for a second. She looks very calm, nothing out of the ordinary, peacefully trying to focus on the task at hand, doing nothing to give him the impression that his presence has interrupted her routine.

Normally, he would continue on with his line of questioning, but something seems wrong about this. It's almost like she anticipated him coming here, she's way too calm, not even a hint of annoyance in her voice.

And then it dawns on him…

"It was you," He exclaims, catching her attention with surprise evident in his tone.

Lisbon tries to conceal the forming smirk, her rational side berating her for having so much fun with this, "Me what?" she asks, setting the paperwork aside and folding her hands on top of the desk, feigning ignorance.

The look on Jane's face is priceless, as he undoubtedly tries to discern whether she's playing him or is actually unaware of what's going on. Lisbon, invariably, starts to shift under his gaze, confidence wavering just a bit under his scrutiny.

"Well?" she prompts him when Jane doesn't say anything, but he just approaches her desk in slow strides, trying to build intimidation.

It doesn't work as well as he hopes it would, considering Lisbon is as familiar with his thought process as he is with hers, but when she reclines back in her chair, he figures that's enough torture.

"What'd you do to my couch? It's not here." He says straightforwardly and the concern etched on his face makes Lisbon almost break into a laugh, but she bites the inside of her cheek from doing so.

"It's not there? Really?"

Jane watches, somewhat shocked as she makes the point to walk to the window and peer through the blinds to confirm that his beloved, leather sofa is in fact missing. If he wasn't convinced she's responsible for his couch's absence before, he is now.

If she didn't know, her reaction wouldn't be as theatrical, as well thought out. Instead his Lisbon would be annoyed, irked that he was coming into her office distracting her from the current case.

In an effort to throw him off, she obviously just led him straight to her.

Perhaps if he wasn't as exhausted as he was, he would play along, humor her, pretend to still be unaware of her involvement, it would be quite entertaining; however, they are in the middle of a murder investigation of a 15 year old girl and he needs his couch to think, he needs a silent staring contest with Elvis to help him strategize and searching for his trusted companion is not in the plans.

"Lisbon, you know if you tell me what you did with my couch, I'll have the murderer to you by the end of the day."

She raises her eyebrow at him, hands on her hips, skeptical of his bargain. There's a bemused smile on her face and Jane feels almost like he's being bated, as if he's falling perfectly into her trap and although it surprises him, it also thrills him.

Apparently Lisbon is a worthy opponent not only in banter.

The slight desperation in Jane's suggestion amuses Lisbon, but she doesn't waver. There's that slight feeling of guilt sprouting again as she realizes how much fun she's truly having tormenting the usually composed consultant.

Jane watches the myriad of emotions cross Lisbon's features, her eyes never leaving his as she contemplates and just as she's about to speak, there's a knock on the door followed by Van Pelt's voice,

"Boss, we got a hit on the red Mustang our witness saw leave the crime scene, it's registered to a Jay Gilado, and we got an address."

Jane turns his attention back to Lisbon to see her facial expression completely transformed. There's no trace of amusement or mirth or actual interest, she's back in the professional boss mode and nods at Van Pelt, "alright, let's bring him in."

She walks quickly back to her desk, puts on her jacket, and picks up her badge, hand instinctively going to her hip to make sure her gun is in place. She does this without any regard for the conversation Van Pelt interrupted and it's only when she's half way out the door that she stops and turns her attention back to Jane,

"You'll obviously want to talk to this guy so stick around while we bring him in. Oh and since your couch has mysteriously disappeared, I suggest you use your desk as something other than a bookshelf."

She says this almost as an after thought, one foot out in the hallway, with Van Pelt and Rigsby standing by the elevators waiting for her. Lisbon doesn't wait for Jane to say anything, just walks out to meet the rest of the team.

Jane stands for a long time in her office, surprised that she didn't tell him to leave. He steps out into the bullpen for just a moment, surveying the suggested working space, and grimaces immediately. Whoever came up with the idea of a wooden desk and a swiveling chair as a productive working environment was seriously misguided.

For a second, he contemplates stealing the armchair in the shrink's office, since it's still unoccupied, but then something in Lisbon's office catches his eye and a smile that Lisbon would call devilish spreads over his features.

***

Lisbon isn't sure what she expects the next day, but the loud blasting of Rap music from inside her office is even more peculiar than she anticipated. She walks in to find Jane reclining on her couch as if he never left; in fact, if he didn't have a different suit on, Lisbon would assume he'd spent the night there.

Nevertheless, his choice of attire is the last thing on her mind when she notices the source of noise is a portable CD player propped up on the table next to her couch and when the sound stops, she realizes Jane has plugged in a set of headphones.

"Good morning, Lisbon. There's a Cran-apple muffin on the desk with your name on it." The blond man graces her with one of his heart melting smiles and she can't help but steal a glance at her desk.

Sure enough, there's a large, golden brown muffin standing on a small plate in the middle of her organized desk. Coincidentally, her stomach chooses that moment to remind her that she'd run out of the house with just her portable coffee mug this morning.

"Figured you'd skip breakfast as usual and since we're basically roommates for the time being, I wanted to show my appreciation for your hospitality."

Lisbon narrows her eyes at him as she approaches her chair, gingerly setting her things by the desk, unsure of whether to trust Jane or consider this one of his manipulations.

Then as he continues to smile at her, Lisbon recalls another time he surprised her, with a pony on her birthday. She'd been very suspicious of him all day but especially when he put a ridiculous bow on her office door and told her to open it. She'd honestly felt quite foolish afterward so Lisbon decides she'll embrace Jane's generosity and enjoy her muffin instead of worrying about it too much.

She thanks him for it, inquires about his morning, and asks if he has any thoughts on the case. It's only when he replies that he needs to ruminate on it some more and Lisbon decides to review the current evidence that she hears that god-awful noise again. This time it's coming from the headphones Jane is wearing.

The scene would be quite humorous if it weren't so irritating. A grown man in a three-piece suit with a very tranquil expression on his face, listening to such violent and angry music; Lisbon realizes quickly that this is meant to distract her from her tasks and is a perfect way for Jane to subtly bother her. So she walks over to him, yanking the headphones out of his ears, and giving him a disapproving glare,

"Really? You're really going to do this?"

"Do what?" Jane asks innocently as he sits up. Lisbon doesn't realize how close they are to one another until she finds that Jane's face is an inch away from her belt buckle. The implication of the proximity startles her slightly, causing blush to spread from her chest upwards, coloring her cheeks. She steps back immediately, fixing him with an annoyed look to conceal her discomfort.

It's not even noon yet and Jane has already managed to somehow get under her skin. Although, knowing how much he loves that damn couch, she can't blame him for trying to make this as unpleasant for her as possible. She actually has no doubt that he knows she's responsible, and logically she can be as vindictive as possible and kick him out of her office altogether, but something stops her.

Perhaps it's the knowledge that to go to all this trouble to bother her, he must have spent time thinking about her. For whatever reason that thought leaves her with a pleasant feeling she can't identify. She instinctively shakes the emotion away, not really understanding where it's coming from (or not wanting to admit that she knows exactly why she feels that way) and slaps him lightly on the shoulder,

"You know what you're doing and I want you to stop it. You can't annoy me when I've been nice enough to let you idle around in my office." she exclaims, perhaps angrier than she should be.

Jane rubs his shoulder, wincing at her like a wounded kitten.

She turns around to walk back to her desk, but she hears Jane mutter something dark under his breath, something that slightly resembles an accusation, perhaps that she shouldn't have taken his couch, then he wouldn't have to resort to such extreme measures.

She lets out a huff of air and without calming herself, turns around and locks eyes with him,

"Give it up, Jane. No amount of irritating or bothering me will bring your couch back before its ready-…"

"Aha," Jane exclaims, standing up, "So you know where it is."

Lisbon rolls her eyes, a slight smirk on her face as she crosses her arms, "maybe I do, maybe I don't but not even that awful music will get me to give it up…_if_ I knew where it was."

Jane frowns as he approaches her, his walk feline-like and somewhat predatory, "You know, Lisbon, I have a few tools at my disposal which even you, my dear, may not be immune to."

He's close enough now for it to be almost unprofessional, but she doesn't push him away, her arms like lead at her sides, eyes watching as he towers over her. Even though the back of her thighs aren't even touching her desk, Lisbon feels as if he's already trapped her, his eyes staring deep into her, concentrated. She's seen that look before, it's familiar, he had it just last week when he-…

"Hey," she blinks, swatting his arm in the same spot again, "don't try to hypnotize it out of me, cheater. My gun is only a hand motion away." She gestures to the holster on the desk and Jane just smiles, shrugging,

"You'd never shoot me and besides it was worth a try."

Lisbon thinks he'll step away now, give up and stop invading her personal space, but Jane doesn't move, eyes no longer intrusively boring into her soul, but rather watching her carefully; trying to read her but in the superficial, facetious way she's used to. She doesn't move him either, her body unconsciously relaxing in his presence, as she catches a hint of his cologne. The combination of senses overpowers her, causing goose bumps to break out on her skin.

He doesn't step any closer, but the tension between them is palpable and Lisbon wonders how they can go from playful to serious in one brief undefined moment. It's so sudden, she can't recall the change occurring.

Jane watches her with interest, his mind distracted by the soft wave in her hair. It reminds him of when she used to wear her hair curly all the time. He remembers wondering if she purposefully did it so, but regardless he found himself liking it then. It's only when his hand twitches at his side, itching to reach out and run a finger through one of the loose ringlets that he forces himself away from her, uncertain of this strange desire to observe new things about the brunette in front of him.

Thankfully, before he has a chance to admire the softness of her lips, accentuated by a light, barely visible gloss, there's a knock on the door and Rigsby sticks his head inside. The two step away from each other too quickly and Lisbon immediately tears her eyes away from Jane, focusing on Rigsby.

Apparently, they found the victim's boyfriend…or what was left of him, his car torched and left on the side of highway 101 with him in it. Lisbon frowns immediately; it was obvious to Jane in the beginning that she was almost certain the vic's boyfriend was somehow involved.

Although his death doesn't rule him out as potential accomplice, it does complicate things and Jane can already tell Lisbon's beginning to feel the stress of the situation. He feels almost sorry for hassling her this morning, but reminds himself that she started this, she did something to annoy him first. The excuse seems juvenile but Jane doesn't contemplate further.

Instead, he shifts gears and decides to focus on the case; there'll be plenty of time to irritate the hell out of Lisbon after the murderer is caught.

TBC


	2. Part II

**Refurbished Revelations**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Rating: T

Spoiler: The Scarlett Letter

Prompt: Lisbon decides to have Jane's couch reupholstered/cleaned/moved…(without telling him.)

A/N: Thanks everyone for all your sweet reviews and thanks Frogster for the wicked prompt! Hope you enjoy this part.

***

Part II

Unfortunately for Jane's plans, the case takes over much of the unit's work for the next few days, leaving little time for anything else.

The boyfriend's murder turns the investigation into a completely opposite direction, which means they work around the clock to cover all possible angles and explore every clue available.

Although, Jane spends most of that time in deep thought, occupying Lisbon's couch, the brunette herself is rarely there with him; instead strategizing with the team in the bullpen or re-examining evidence that is of no interest to the consultant, who chooses to focus on re-watching the interviews with the victim's next of kin and other suspects to catch anything he might have missed before.

This cuts severely into his ability and desire to extract the location of his couch from the detective. Their conversations as usual have been reduced to shop talk, bouncing ideas off each other, sometimes a heated argument over his unorthodox methods erupts. However, whenever Jane has the desire to tease her or to direct the conversation back to his own kidnapping case, Lisbon either sends him a preemptive look of death or the exhaustion in her eyes deters his attack altogether.

He doesn't even notice that he's becoming more attuned to her moods, to how she's feeling. His concern for her wellbeing overpowers any rumination and Jane finds that he does what comes most naturally to him, instinctively making sure Lisbon is okay.

Between that and the case, his coach's whereabouts retreat further and further to the back of his mind, to the point that when he walks into the office after getting closed case donuts and coffee for everyone after an all-nighter, he doesn't even notice that his couch has arrived until Rigsby points to it, powdered sugar on his nose.

Jane watches first as Van Pelt knowingly extends a napkin to an embarrassed Rigsby before averting his gaze to the place where his couch usually resides.

He's delighted to find the sofa there as if it never left. It doesn't look any different from far away, but up close he can see the leather looks brand new and the large tear in the cushion is gone; it also smells faintly of lemon, probably some sort of cleaning solution.

Jane sits down on it cautiously. Cho, Van Pelt, and Rigsby watch amusedly as he tests it out as if he's in a furniture store; he grimaces at first, realizing the thing he appreciated most about this couch before was how well worn it was, how it conformed to his body, reminding him of stability.

Despite the squeaking of leather beneath him, Jane pulls off his blazer and lies down, resuming his usual position for a few moments. At first it feels slightly weird, almost foreign and even though Elvis, the spot on the ceiling. is still at his eye level, and though the couch, after a few long minutes, finally feels worn in again-the old springs screeching as he moves around on it- something feels different.

The couch is perfect, the window brings in the same early morning sun rays, and the position he is in is ideal for napping, but Jane can't seem to shake the feeling that something isn't right, it just doesn't fit.

He moves around for a moment but realizes very quickly that his discomfort has nothing to do with the couch, instead as he catches sight of Lisbon disappearing into her office, he understands that the problem lies elsewhere.

Jane startles the agents crowded around the case-closed feast with his abrupt move from the couch and to the conference table, where he snatches two donuts and a cup of coffee from the platter, and barges into Lisbon's office without knocking.

Van Pelt watches amusedly, taking a sip of coffee as she catches Rigsby's eye,

"Five bucks says he still stays on boss's couch."

"No way," the taller agent exclaims, through a mouthful of doughy goodness, "Jane loves Elvis."

"Elvis?" Van Pelt raises her eyebrow, confusion marring her face, "I thought Elvis was the spot on the ceiling."

"It is," Cho cuts in, earmarking the page he's on, "but there's also Elvis, the couch." He clarifies and Van Pelt just looks at him blankly,

"Whoa, he couldn't have been more creative." She muses, then plucks a small glazed donut off the platter and returns to her desk, muttering something to herself about the lack of originality in men.

***

Lisbon doesn't bat an eyelash when she hears him come in, just continues reviewing the report in front of her, eyes not wavering as Jane places the donuts and coffee on her desk, teetering impatiently on his heels in front of her.

"Your couch arrived while you were out." Lisbon reminds him, swiping the bangs from her forehead.

Jane tries to ignore his spontaneous desire to do it for her,

"Yes, I see that it did. It's been reupholstered and cleaned. Lisbon I'm touched that you took the incentive to fix up Elvis for me."

Lisbon lets out a snort in spite herself, finally looks up. It's not very ladylike but for some reason Jane finds it incredibly cute and also secretly a little proud that she's so comfortable around him.

"Well now that he's back, you can resume your idling duties; give me some peace and quiet."

There's a teasing inflection in her remark and the corner of her mouth is upturned, but Jane still feigns ignorance,

"You don't mean that, do you? I thought we got on quite well as roommates. I've grown very fond of Rosita here."

"Rosita?" Lisbon raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him, paperwork long forgotten. Jane nods and she sighs, "Well of course you'd name my sofa."

"To be named is to be acknowledged, and I am certain everyone wants to be acknowledged at some point."

"It's a couch, Jane." Lisbon says, then when there's no response, she stifles a yawn and clarifies, "a piece of furniture."

"So what if it's a piece of furniture?" Jane deadpans, interrupting her quick fantasy of snuggling deep into the covers of her bed, the plus mattress beneath her, and the sounds of silence…pure bliss after a hellish work schedule.

Lisbon opens her mouth to reply, but finds nothing to say and instead just rolls her eyes, "whatever you say, Jane."

She hopes to finish up as quickly as possible, but when Jane sits down on her sofa, crossing his legs and looking back at her from his comfortable spot, Lisbon knows he won't be leaving any time soon.

"I brought you some closed-case goodies." He gestures towards the spread on her desk and Lisbon nods in acknowledgement, "Yes you did. Thanks, but I probably shouldn't have any, sugar and caffeine are a sure way for me not to catch up on some sleep."

"Eh, nonsense, having one won't kill ya."

He's insistent and Lisbon raises an eyebrow again, sending him her customary suspicious stare, but reaching for the donut anyway.

"I suppose not." She admits, taking a tentative bite and placing it back on the plate, eager to return to her casework.

Jane is aware his presence may not be so much appreciated and he's also pretty certain that the brunette is wondering why he's still lounging on her couch when his has just arrived, a better and squeakier version, but still Elvis nonetheless.

To be perfectly frank, he's not so sure why he's still sitting in Lisbon's office either. Jane can't quite pinpoint what has changed, is perfectly convinced that while he was too busy scheming different ways to weasel information out of Bosco about Red John and being an overall nuisance, he let something slip passed him, but he isn't sure what it is.

She's still the same Lisbon, sure her hair is different now and she walks with slightly more authority, probably because the transfer of the Red John case toughened her up, reminded her that her career isn't bulletproof; however, she still rolls her eyes every time he does something stupid, and still hushes him when he says something inappropriate in front of a suspect or witness.

And at the end of the day, she's still the only one who can keep him in check, the sole reason he hasn't been kicked out of the bureau just yet. Maybe that's why he's here, because somewhere in between catching Red John and firing a weapon to save her life, Lisbon became more than just a colleague, a means to an end.

It's foreign to him, being unable to decipher his own mind. He's always been good at reading others that much is evident, but that same trait has not always extended to himself. So Jane does what he's good at, he deflects, in hopes that Lisbon's response will be a window into his own soul.

"I am curious though," He begins, studying his nails in a usual attempt to avoid her eyes for the moment. Lisbon is acutely aware that this is Jane's way of preparing his prey for his ultimate attack, so she places the document she's working on to the side.

"Yes?"

Jane looks up, meeting her emerald gaze with a lighter, sea-colored look of his own, "why didn't you let me know you were going to have the couch reupholstered?"

"You mean aside from how much fun I had watching you try to wheedle the information out of me and then struggle to get comfortable on Rosita, here?" The smile on her face lights up her features and Jane can't help but notice.

"Ah, well you're quite the devil, aren't ya?"

"I learn from the best" Lisbon deadpans her smug expression momentarily startling Jane.

"What? Me? No, I do not purposefully deceive you." He counters but Lisbon just shoots him an incredulous stare, "oh really?" she asks, gives him a moment to rethink his position.

Jane remains silent, choosing instead to watch her as Lisbon prepares to fire, setting up an attack of her own.

"You want to know why I didn't extend the courtesy of informing you that I was having the couch fixed?"

"I most certainly do." He reaffirms. It only makes Lisbon frown slightly but she focuses all her attention on him, paperwork put away and donuts forgotten.

"I didn't tell you, because even after everything that's happened, Hardy, Bosco, Minelli reassigning the Red John case, you still refuse to play by the rules. Better yet, even after consistent reprimands you still hypnotized that suspect last week and guess what Jane, now his confession is inadmissible and he'll most likely walk. Do you know what that means? It means in all your good intention, you might have aided a serial rapist in escaping proper prosecution. So, I figure if you can't play by the rules, I won't either and since that couch is all you seem to care about, I thought what better way to remind you that you're not the only one capable of following your own protocol."

She never anticipated the rant, was not prepared to reveal the full extent of her motivation. Thus, by the time she finishes speaking, there's a faint blush on her cheeks and her heart seems to be beating out of her chest.

Jane sits frozen, still, a blond statue that's unmoving, aquamarine gaze trained on her, but revealing nothing as it takes in everything. She's reminded of a different conversation they had not too long ago, a dark basement, a botched plan, and her almost revealing something she hadn't realized herself at that point.

Now, Lisbon understands. It's as if all the pieces of the puzzle have fallen into place. In revealing the superficial motivation behind a seemingly innocent, tongue in cheek prank, the deeper motive has reared its ugly head and Lisbon is uncertain she wants to confront it.

The last time she was this honest, he told her not to be angry. He also saved her life. The second thought hangs over her for a moment longer as she gauges Jane's expression.

He's quiet for some time, and Lisbon isn't sure what she's expecting. Will he simply get up and walk out of here? Will he psychoanalyze her until he uncovers what she has unearthed? The anticipation builds in her stomach and Lisbon almost wants to shake him for a response, but then something unlikely happens, something she would have never predicted.

Jane stands up, walks over, and perches himself on the edge of her desk. Lisbon has the urge to move away from him, but her innate sense of authority, that part of her that will forever remain defiant when challenged does not waver, instead she sits up straighter, eyes meeting his, ready for combat.

For a moment, she looks past him, her blinds are open and she catches sight of the shiny, leather couch in its usual spot. It's only when he touches her shoulder and murmurs her name that Lisbon swallows, suddenly wondering when this stopped being about a couch and started being about something else.

Damn Jane and his ability to make her reveal everything. The heat from his touch burns through two layers of clothing but the intense blue gaze trained on her sends cold shivers down her spine.

The duplicitous sensations threaten to undo her so she fixes him with a questioning stare and in turn receives an unexpected, heart-melting grin. The one that makes Jane's entire face soften, the creases around his eyes more pronounced but they only make them seem younger, more vibrant, the dichotomy in the man.

"Silly Lisbon," He murmurs again, but this time she hears it as if he were screaming it into her ear and a surge of anger jolts through her system. How dare he, she thinks, already pushing her chair back to stand up, but the hand on her shoulder stops her.

His touch is soft but stern. He will never belittle her, never treat her like a child, and make her sit down when she doesn't want to. Instead, his gesture implores her, asking her to remain seated rather than forcing her to do so.

"You really think I spent the last four days horribly uncomfortable in your office, because I wanted to know what you did with my couch?"

She looks at him as if it was the only logical explanation and Jane can't help but smile wider. He appreciates that she wants to see the good in people, that she doesn't try to read into every action like he does. After all this is the same person who once told him that not every murder is a secret inside of another secret, but god this woman can be ridiculously oblivious in the most inopportune moments.

"I'll give you a piece of advice. Next time you want to hide something like that from me, make sure the order receipt doesn't get mixed up with the case files on your desk."

Her eyes grow saucer-like with surprise, green with speckles of gold peering at him from beneath dark, long lashes, and he can't look away. He also can't stop grinning as her expression changes into one of usual annoyance and she swats his arm for the umpteenth time.

"You knew?" Lisbon exclaims, ready to kill him, "you knew this whole time?"

She can't quite believe it, but she shouldn't be so shocked. She wagered a game against the master, she should be glad she's emerged relatively unscathed. The smile that morphs on her lips is involuntary, so is the slight relaxation in her posture.

"I should've known," She sighs, and for a moment Jane almost rolls his eyes, as her eyes yield no recognition of what she should really be focusing on. But then, she turns to look at him again, eyebrow arching in that perfectly adorable way as she eyes him suspiciously,

"So why'd you torment yourself for so long on my "horribly uncomfortable" couch then?"

Bull's eye.

"Well," He moves his hand from her shoulder and they both try to pretend not to be disappointed, "let's just say, Elvis the couch, is not the only thing I care about."

He doesn't wait for her reaction, doesn't think he's ready to face the ramifications of what he's just said, what he's invariably admitted. So he stands abruptly, startling them both by grabbing a donut off the table and walking towards the door.

He should walk out, not look back, because later it will be easier to chalk this up to a lapse in judgment, a slip of tongue if he doesn't turn around, but he can't. He needs to know, needs to see her face, so Jane looks over his shoulder and finds Lisbon staring at him, a slight deer caught in headlights expression that she tries hard to conceal.

And then she smiles at him, and for the first time in a while Jane doesn't know what to make of it, but she's not yelling or threatening him or calling him a jerk for leading her on for the last couple days, so a part of him is at peace,

"Get some sleep today, you look way too exhausted."

"Thanks," Lisbon replies dryly, trying hard to conceal the shock she's just sustained.

She isn't sure what to make of his confession and she's also a little glad that Jane's perceptive enough to give her space right now, but she's also grateful for the resilience in their interaction.

How they don't let the weight of anything interfere with their playful banter.

"Do I look that bad?" she murmurs, not really expecting an answer, but Jane gives her one anyway,

"God no," he says, a little too quickly, a little too earnestly, his eyes roaming over her a little too unabashedly, and they both realize he needs to walk away now, before the tight spring of control snaps between them.

And although Lisbon is kind of itching to find out what comes after this, thirsting with curiosity, she knows neither of them is ready for the next step.

There are so many things beyond this room, beyond the tension bubbling between them, and they have to be careful, so she just shakes her head at him a little and looks down at her desk again, picking up the report she was looking at, if just for show.

Jane takes that as a hint to leave and finally pushes the office door open.

The floor is awake by now, people coming in for an early day or getting ready to leave after an all-nighter like the Serious Crimes unit, and though he'd welcome the commotion on any other day, right now he's never found the noise more off-putting.

Regardless, Jane makes his way into the bullpen and slides down on his refurbished couch, fidgeting for a moment but ultimately relaxing, fatigue sinking in as his body reminds him he's spent the last twenty four hours chasing leads.

Lisbon smiles as she watches him through the blinds.

She should be angry, should be pissed as hell that he outsmarted her yet again, but instead her heart feels a bit lighter and there's a feeling of warmth that she's only now getting used to. Her thoughts refuse to focus on how she's been duped. Instead all that she can concentrate on, the only thing that makes her feel like a giddy 15 year old, is that Jane spent four days uncomfortable as hell on a couch way too small for him.

And although she figures Jane probably didn't learn much about breaking the rules, and she invariably lost this particular game with him, she's gained so much more.

_"…the couch is not the only thing I care about."_

And that's a loss that she can definitely live with.

***


End file.
